


First Into Battle When Winter Comes

by JesseMo (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/JesseMo
Summary: When Varys and Olenna discuss saving innocent Sansa from possibly escaping with creepy Petyr, a man who they all know has his own devious agenda towards the girl that looks like the mirror of her mother. They decide that there is a wiser match to make for her rather than Loras that would secure her escape from Kings Landings.Dickon Tarly is in need of a wife, being that he is of age and heir to his father great house, with Sam serving as a brother of the Night Watch. Randyl Tarly is a man of fierce tradition and honor and a dear childhood friend of Olenna's. It is at her behest he accepts such a proposal of marriage between Sansa Stark and his son.But will the Lannisters accept this bethrothel and let Sansa go, or will they devise another way to keep their claws dug into her?





	First Into Battle When Winter Comes

**Author's Note:**

> I really couldn't think of a good title, so I decided to combine their house words.

Margaery had begged that they help Sansa even before Varys had come to her about Sansa, the Spider claiming to share the same hopes and concern for Sansa’s wellbeing and happiness as Olenna.

The Queen-to-be was more than just a little fond of the proclaimed, disgraced daughter of the traitor Ned Stark, and Olenna wondered how it was that both of her grandchildren found desire more in the same sex then the opposite. Margaery may not be so far in love with Sansa Stark as Loras was in love with Renly Baratheon, and she was grateful for that. Margaery didn’t have the same stealth as Cersei to lay with another that was not her husband. It would only end in heartbreak for her granddaughter if a stop wasn’t put on the two young woman's relationship from going dangerously further. 

It shouldn’t be too difficult. Margaery may desire her, and though Sansa seemed to have a great deal of affection and some attraction for the other as well, if a handsome young man was put in front of her Sansa would be sure to run to him. The girl as it was seemed naive to her own desires, and though she had wised up a great deal, Olenna was sure that sweet girls still had fanciful dreams of being stolen away, married and made mistress of a keep, comfortable and taken care of for the rest of her days. 

As Margaery came to her grandmother for assistance, Olenna thought perhaps she could give Sansa what her heart desired. At first she considered strongly of arranging a marriage between her grandson Loras and Sansa. She saw how the little wolf girl looked at her grandson. She told them once, that at the Hand of the Kings Tourney he had given her a rose, and though she didn’t say it it was obvious she had been smitten with him since. 

Varys and Olenna had obviously thought about Loras, but upon further in depth discussion quickly rethought such a scheme. It would only backfire on them. The Tyrell were ambitious as it was to try and put a Tyrell Queen on the throne, first through Renly and now Joffrey, they had to be careful as not to appear too greedy. Trying to claim the North for the Tyrells through Sansa was asking for too much. Upon further thought, the once again began discussing allies and enemies and came to another, better solution forgetting Sansa out of the capital.

Sansa had mentioned, that her father had told her once, just before his death when he wanted to leave Kings Landing, that he would make her a match with someone who was worthy of her, a man who was brave, gentle and strong. If Olenna had ever met a sweeter, fool of a boy that embodied these things then it would be Dickon Tarly.

Varys agreed on the match. 

  
So Olenna Tyrell wrote to Randyl Tarly, in which suggesting that his son, who was of marriageable age and more than agreeable perhaps visit and consider taking Sansa Stark for his wife. It would be a good match, Olenna had met Dickon a number of times, Randyl was a childhood friend of Olenna and their castle was the closest to Highgarden. She told him despite the terrible circumstance of her father, a known traitor, Sansa was a pinnacle of a perfect high-born woman and her and Dickon’s characters would compliment each other well. 

Everyone knew the truth about Ned Stark, the man was no traitor, he was too honorable and too honest to ever be scheming enough to be a traitor. Everyone knew the truth, the heard the rumors, it was just that they didn’t care enough to risk their necks as Ned Stark had trying to do the good and right thing by his friend. 

  
He should have just left, he should never have looked back. He should have packed his bags, put his daughters in a litter and took his family back to the cold, isolated North and be the wiser to stay out of the war to come. The loss of Ned Stark was a loss for the realm, no matter how the Lannisters made him and his own out.

She asked as a friend, to at least come and see the girl for himself, let his son visit with her, watch them and decide for himself whether to agree to make the match, that is if he wouldn’t do this favor for a dear old friend.

A raven arrived in response to hers. Only it was addressed for Sansa.    
Margaery asked to give it to Sansa herself. 

She found her friend in the godswood of the Red Keep. It was an acre of elm, alder and black cottonwood trees that overlooked the Blackwater Rush, one of the major rivers of the Seven Kingdoms. Margaery thinks she has never seen the girl so in her element, and she can imagine her in fur kneeled before the bleeding heart tree of Winterfell as snow fell around her. Instead, Sansa kneels amongst the dragon breath, the red flowers looking as if she were praying in a pool of blood, her hands clasped in front of her. 

Finally, Margaery clears her throat gently, and Sansa looks up in her direction. She’s startled for just a moment, taken out of her prayer, and stands to properly greet Margaery.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” says Margaery, the scroll from Dickon safely hidden beneath the curling of her fingers, hands one over the other in front of her.

“You haven’t,” Sansa assures her with a soft smile.

Margaery glances briefly at the men who had been sent with Sansa to watch her rather than guard her, lesser Lannister soldiers with their ugly helmets.

  
“We would like some privacy, please,  if you wouldn’t mind waiting back inside the Keep.”

Neither man moves. Margaery sighs and lifts her chin a little bit higher before strutting past them. “Or, if you would be so kind to give me your names, I will have the king speak with you himself.”

  
They hesitated for just a moment before leaving. Sansa is always amazed by Margaery, she’s the type of woman Sansa’s always wanted to be. She admires her far more than Sansa had ever admired Cersei. Though Cersei had beauty and power, so did Margaery, most of all she was kind with a soft, clever charm where Cersei was just nasty and cruel.

Margaery smiled and asked in a whisper. “What did you pray for?”

“I can’t tell you,” Sansa replied almost shyly, so sweet.

“Why not, I’ll tell you what I prayed for in Sept this morning.” she pouted and then grinned, looping her arm with Sansa’s and leading them out of the Godswood.

“Let’s see,” she said trying to remember. “I prayed for my families health and happiness, for an end to the war, for a short winter, and I prayed for you.”

  
“For me?” Sansa said, her pale face surprised. 

She hadn’t been allowed out of the walls of the keep much, and though she had been of beautiful porcelain skin before due to the cloudy, gray-skied north, but not she was just ashen. Margaery was glad to see her in the gardens, the sun making the red of her hair shine and ripple like fire. It was beautiful and more than once Margaery had recommended she should wear it curled over her shoulders, it was just so lovely to hide and let lay flat down her back. 

“Yes, that you find happiness, sweet girl.” she smiled gently, eyes soft as she looked up at Sansa, the other girl some bit taller than her.

“When I first saw you standing up in the throne room, I never thought someone could look so miserable,” she said, sighing sadly at the end. “That why I prayed to the seven, and I believe they have answered my prayer.”

“I don’t understand,” Sansa said, voice low, eyes wide and wary. 

“Here, sweet girl, this will answer both our prayers I believe.” she stopped and finally gave Sansa the scroll.

Sansa took it with delicate fingers and examined the seal. 

“This has house Tarly’s Sigil, why would it be for me?” Sansa looked at her, holding the scroll but not opening it.

“Just read it.” Margaery encouraged, not explaining any further.

Sansa looked at her and then the scroll with uncertainty before finally breaking the wax seal and unrolling it. 

Sansa’s looked at Margaery once more and then began to read what the scroll had to say. It was from Dickon Tarly. He said that he had heard of her unfortunate circumstances, and would like to give his condolences. Very standard, very polite, still strange as she had never met the Tarly’s though she knew well about their great house from her lessons with her septa.Young Lords were not the only ones who learned the history and current standing of Westerosi houses. 

He continued the letter by saying he had heard word that her betrothal to King Joffrey had been terminated, and now that her hand was free of any claim he might stand a chance of winning it for himself if she would so like, and that he rode with his father from Horn Hill to propose in person if she so liked him enough.

“I don’t understand,” Sansa said, why would such a great house ask for her as a bride. She was a traitor's daughter as Joffrey and everyone else in court like to remind her so often, and as she reminded herself as well. She could not think of herself as an untouchable highborn lady.

  
“What do you mean, what does it say?” Margaery asked coyly and Sansa handed her the letter, watching as Margaery smile grew with each word.

  
“This is wonderful, Sansa!” she said, congratulating her.

Randyl Tarly has agreed to Olenna’s request, he and Dickon will travel to the capital and Randyl will propose the match himself to Tywin rather than said some stuffy letter. Randyl Tarly was a man much like the late Ned Stark, though a bit more outspoken than the latter. He had a great sense of honor and believe that a man should do things in person if to be done right and properly. 

“Why,” Sansa was cut off by her own, terrified choke. This couldn’t be right, it must be a cruel misunderstanding or trick by Joffrey. “Why would they--?”

  
Margaery stepped in front of Sansa, angling her own face in front of the other so she had to look her in the eyes. 

  
“Sansa, my sweet, sweet girl, how can you ask something so silly.” she said gently, she didn’t want Sansa to think she was making fun of her or calling her stupid.

“Where to start as to answer why,” she mused. “Well, I suppose the obvious is always best.”

  
“You are beautiful, Sansa, just like your mother, even more so.” She complimented her and touched her hair.

  
“I met her once you know,” she told Sansa who looked surprised, yet hopeful. This would be the first news of her mother in so long. 

  
“Your brother sent her to treat with Renly about an alliance. She came and stood right infront of him and me, looked him in the eye and called him ‘Lord’.” she said with breath of a laugh. 

“To a man who had declared himself a king.” Margaery whispered understanding the dangers of mentioning Renly.

“She was admirable in her bravery.” she continued.

“And you are brave too. You might think it, but you are, you’ve endured so much yet here you stand, as lovely as any of the roses in this garden, you’ve grown strong.” she said, thinking of the words of House Tyrell. 

“I wish you could marry Loras, you would do our house proud if you were his wife.” she told Sansa and saw in her eyes she would have loved nothing more to marry Loras instead. 

She would have to make sure to convince Sansa of Dickon. They would absolutely be perfect for one another. 

  
“But the Tarlys are only a stone throne away from Highgarden, and dear friends of our House. You can visit my mother and grandmother whenever you wish. My family would be glad to host you.” she promised Sansa who seemed to take some relief from the way her deflated shoulders raised and pushed back.

“As to the other reasons why Dickon would wish to marry you, you yourself come from two great houses. Stark and Tully. It would be a suitable match and I think you will like Dickon very much.” she said with a glint in her eyes as she took Sansa arm again and resumed their walking.

“He’s very handsome, tall and strong. His arms are like tree trunks,” Margaery laughed and pretended to swoon a little. “He a complete gentleman, his mother made sure of that, very respectable. He may not be as clever as some men, but he’s charming to be sure.”

“Don’t you think this is wonderful, Sansa?” Margaery asked, wondering why her friend wasn’t more excited at this prospect.

  
“I don’t think the King will like it.” she finally said. “I don’t think he’ll let me marry and leave Kings Landing,” she said, her voice small, eyes looking around her like a skittish animal.

“Nonsense, you are no longer betrothed to him and have bled, have you not?” she asked. 

  
Sansa blushed and nodded her head.

“So you see, it’s just not proper to wait too long to have you wed. The Tarly’s are an ally of House Tyrell and of the Crown,” she explained further why this would work.

 

“They too lent men to fight against Stannis in the battle of Black Water, surely they deserve some reward for their bravery and what better one to give than the hand of a beautiful woman from a good house.” she smiled, her mind sharp when it came to people and politics. Margaery, like Tyrion, knew how to fight the battles inside a Keep rather than outside it.

“The king is wise, he will understand the political benefit of this match for his kingdom.” 

Sansa highly doubted that, but she still held on to some hope if this was all coming from Margaery.

“You know Lord Dickon well?” Sansa asked, trying not to sound too interested.

  
Margaery grinned. “He was my brother's playmate as children, and when they got older they became practice partners in swordsmanship. He spent many of days with us at High Garden, and I saw him during most of them.”

“He’s a very simple man, but I feel that most men are so in the mind,” Margaery whispered, sharing a giggle with Sansa.

“But please, don’t think that he is dimwitted at all. He may have some difficulty at conversation, but he is very pleasant to be around,” she promised. “His older brother, Samwise, joined the Nights Watch.”

  
“His older brother, why?” Sansa asked surprised, not often heard of the oldest heirs joining the Watch.

  
“Well, Samwell was always quite well read, he had the mind of a maester my grandmother would say and well, he got fat you see, just sitting around reading all those books,” Margaery said, shaking her head sadly.

  
“Unlike Dickon, he had no interest in any exercise or sport, and I think he felt ashamed over that and joined the Night’s Watch to spare his father any disgrace in the future.”

“That poor boy, I wonder if he knows my half-brother Jon.” Sansa immediately went pale and rigid at saying one of her family members names.

  
“Jon, is he the bastard?” Margaery tried to recall.

“Yes, my mother wouldn’t let him stay in Winterfell if Father wouldn’t be there. She was always very insulted and upset with him living with us.”

  
“Well, I would quite understand. It must have felt like a constant slap everytime she saw him, a reminder of her husband’s unfaithfulness.” Margaery had said, only meaning to put herself in Lady Catelyn’s shoes. But then she realized the offense she must be making and turned to apologize, but Sansa’ face was a cold, indifferent mask.

  
“My father was a traitor, my mother and brother are traitors,” she said, a practice chant for all those that might question her own loyalty. 

  
Margaery looked at her sadly and spoke in the softest, hush of voice.

“Perhaps, but they are your family, and it is not so simple to just stop loving your blood.” It had been so faint, those words of understanding and support, her compassion wrapping around Sansa like a mother embrace that just made her want to cry.

“But don’t worry, soon you will have a new family if you wed Dickon. We may not be sisters, but we can be like cousins, and I’m very fond of all my cousins,” said Margaery to her. “I want us to be friends, good friends, Sansa.”

  
“I would like that.” Sansa gave a watery smile, cheeks a bit red.

“Hmm, what else can I tell you about our Lord Dickon?” Margaery pondered as she began their walk back, deciding that she would call for their meal in the gardens, enjoy some of the sun and some freshly baked lemon cakes for Sansa.

**Author's Note:**

> Right now this is marked Teen and Up, I think there may be some graphic descriptions of violence later, but for now, I think this rating with suffice with the story.


End file.
